How to Pick up Dropped Stitches
by MiaKitten
Summary: Rory's career took off after the success of Gilmore Girls, and she left her daughter in Lorelai's capable hands. She returns to Stars Hollow to write her sequel, and like everyone else, expects her daughter to be her copy. Lola is, quite frankly, sick of pretending to try to meet those expectations. Content warning: LGBT relationships.
1. Chilton sucks

_I only own Lola. The basic premise was inspired by J. Salus, but from the point of view of a Gilmore Girl, rebellion can take many forms._

_The year is 2032. Lola is fifteen. I'm trying to predict trends and tech as best I can, and we rejoin a Rory who has learned life lessons about as well as she learned monogamy in the series._

_Oh, and OA stands for Opening Arguments. Law-talking podcast. Kids like weird stuff in the future._

Lola hated Chilton.

As she settled into the musty, stained bus seat, she mentally listed all the things she hated as her fingers massaged her temples and her eyes, blue like her mother and grandmother before her, slid shut.

She hated the food: bland, stale, and prepared from boxes and cans. It was mandatory for all students if they wanted to eat, with outside lunches being forbidden thanks to student allergies and overprotective parents.

She hated the classes and the preparation for AP tests she couldn't give a rat's tushy about. At least at Stars Hollow High she'd be able to take home economics and regular courses that required less time and group work.

She hated the bus with its sickly sour smell and bumps.

She hated the uniform: its boring school-logo cardigans and scarf and the tight, unyielding leather of the saddle shoes.

She hated the ids, all trust fund bred and silver spoon fed. It wasn't quite Spork City for them, her Mimi Lorelai would quip, but her family's cutlery came from TJ Maxx instead of Tiffany's.

And most of all, she hated the expectations. Her teachers', Headmaster Medina's, her grandparents', and worst of all her mother's. Her mother's expectations bothered her the most but concerned her the least, lurking over her shoulder like the Fat Friar in the Gryffindor common room. Lurking from wherever her mother was at the moment, typically a London hotel room or her one-bedroom apartment in Queens.

As she listed each detestable part of the prestigious high school she was forced to attend, she breathed deeply, exhaling her stress away. Her meditation app was worth every penny of the $60 a year her grandparents had spent for Christmas. She oft3en joked it was cheaper than therapy or drugs. The headache prickling her temples unraveled as the bus hit the highway, and her energy returned.

By the time the bus pulled in front of Luke's, where her best friend Gwen Forrester stood waiting in the late September sun, clutching a sketchbook, Lola's head was no longer swimming.

"Wanna go to the bridge and binge OA with me? I need to draw outside today," Gwen greeted. The two friends, like many their age, would binge listen popular podcasts from their parents' generation. New podcasts were still being updated, but like Netflix, listeners gravitated to their old favorites and introduced them to their kids. The most popular were the current events and political shows from the time; Gwen and Lola both thought it made history books come to life.

"Let me grab my fade sweater," Lola said. "What episode are we on?"

"The whistleblower report was just released. And come on, just bring your bus knitting. Your red shawl could use more love."

Lola sighed loudly, her shoulders drooping.

Gwen guessed immediately. "She replaced your knitting with a book again."

"You know why everyone says I'm exactly like my mother," Lola said through clenched teeth.

"Here we go"

"It's because everyone is always sticking books in my bags like I actually want them there!" Lola seethed. "Everyone's always saying 'look at Lola, she carries a book everywhere, just like her mom. Bound for Yale too, I bet. A born journalist and writer. Do they ever actually notice they never see me reading? Do they wonder where all the talk about me and books came from? Everyone signing me up for Chilton, signing me up for the Franklin, and slipping books in my purse when I'm not looking!"

Lola didn't exactly hate reading, but she was better with math, and she hated what and how often reading was forced on her. Everyone would buy her Dead Souls and biographies on Eli Yale, when all she wanted was her audiobook of _A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ and her Harry Potter books.

"You mean your grandma is always slipping books in your purse. Don't blame everyone."

"Grampa does it sometimes. And my mother does it."

"Your grampa knows by now you knit on the bus. And when was Rory last here? A year ago?"

"Christmas, but when she was here, she'd do it too. Mimi made sure my mother knows I'm 'always forgetting my book' and Mother thinks it's a helpful maternal gesture to provide one. Just like Mimi does."

"What was today's choice?"

"You mean choices. Let's see: Madame Bovary, the New Yorker, a collection of short stories by Sandra Cisneros, and that gigantic biography of Alexander Hamilton." Lola ticked them off on her fingers.

"Oh, can I borrow that one?" Gwen, ever the history buff, asked as they made their way toward Luke's, where Lola's half-knit sweater sat in the office upstairs.

"If you can find it in my backpack." Luke's bell jingled as the two entered the familiar warmth of the diner.

"Hey girls, you hungry?"

"Maybe some soup to go. Gwen and I were just going to the bridge for a bit."

"What about your homework?"

"I'll do it this evening. I just need an hour."

"Don't forget your mom's phone call. You want your work done by then." Lola had forgotten. Her mother was scheduled to call every Wednesday at 7 P.M. Of course, she often missed appointments; it had been over a month since she spoke to her mother. She knew her mother called Mimi often, but she was usually in school or at a babysitting gig.

"Just an hour," Lola pleaded." And I'll bring some homework with me." Luke grunted his acquiescence, and Lola bounced up the stairs, returning sans giant yellow backpack (just like Rory's, Mimi had squealed when she bought it just before Lola's freshman year) and wearing the spare sweater and leggings she kept there. Her trigonometry book and notebook were tucked inside her green messenger bag along with her sweater's project bag and her phone. Luke handed them travel mugs of veggie soup, and they waved him goodbye.

Once their feet were dangling over the water, Gwen passed Lola an earbud and pulled out her charcoal pencils. Lola made quick work of her trig problems. Then, she spent a very pleasant forty minutes fading pale yellow into pale blue yarn for what would eventually be a sunset inspired pullover, all the while listening to Andrew and Thomas explain whistleblowing and speculate what was in the now-infamous 2019 Ukraine report.

Lola could barely remember a time when she did not knit. One Saturday when she was small, with Luke at the diner, Mimi had a business emergency at the Dragonfly Spa. Mimi didn't mind bringing Lola to the inn, but the spa was smaller and full of dangerous chemicals a five-year-old could use to injure herself. Babette had happily agreed to babysit and sat the tangle-headed tot down with some coloring. Lola liked coloring, but that day she was drawn to Babette's clicking sticks. Babette was making her _very own_ sweater that would fit just like she wanted in colors she had picked herself.

Babette had been ready to say she would teach the child when she was a little older and had developed more hand-eye coordination and patience, but Lola inherited Rory's Bambi face and soon found herself sat on the sofa working up a garter stitch coaster in soft lilac yarn.

Lola took to it immediately. The next week she learned purls, and six weeks later presented her Mimi with a set of pastel coasters in various stitch patterns. Mimi was touched, albeit confused at the domesticity, but she used those coasters as long as they held up.

Now at fifteen, Lola could knit, crochet, weave, and spin yarn. She had even gotten into hand dying over the summer, before the weather turned. Fiber was her passion, her painter's brush and mother's pen. It allowed her to forget her absent mother and very present grandmother who believed she had gotten a chance to relive her glory days of motherhood.


	2. Her name's Ricki

Lorelai slid tater tots into the oven and opened Lola's backpack which had been left on the kitchen table, looking for any school notices or unmentioned Franklin articles to praise. Lola hadn't mentioned anything since a week after school started back, when she wrote about the students' favorite teacher, drama teacher Ms. K.

Frowning, Lorelai noticed the books she had put in the backpack that morning had been removed. _Finished already. _Not even Rory was that quick at reading. She must have been nearly done with them already. And maybe she left the new issue of the New Yorker, with Rory's piece on the cover, at school for the headmaster to read.

Lorelai peeked into Lola's room, to remind her to make sure her bus book was in her backpack before she went to bed, but she stopped. Everything was just the same as when Rory lived there all those years ago, right down to the Yale obsession board on the wall, consisting of hand-me-down trinkets and gifts.

It didn't happen often, but sometimes when glancing in this room, or looking at Lola's face when she giggled, Lorelai felt like she slipped into a time machine. Instead of Lola's nest of curls bent over the desk, it was Rory's neatly brushed locks. Instead of Lola's concentration as she worked on a shawl (where had she gotten the knitting thing from) it was Rory reading a book. It took Lorelai a moment to bring herself back to the present, where her granddaughter was writing an English paper, no doubt saving her favorite subject for last just like her mother.

Just like her mother, Lola hated to be disturbed when studying. So Lorelai kept quiet, nervous in the background about overzealous studying habits; she'd remind her about the bus book at dinner. You shouldn't mess with perfection, after all. Rory had become a bestselling author and highly-sought freelance journalist thanks to Lorelai's rearing. What worked once should work again.

Rory finished _Gilmore Girls _when Lola was one. For a while, it languished in the Amazon self-publishing graveyard. It had been quite a shock when the most popular YouTube personality decided to write a memoir and stumbled upon Rory's book when looking for inspiration. He'd held a _Gilmore Girls _book club with his audience, and suddenly Rory's bank account was growing, as was her popularity, and Jess was suggesting an agent.

Once she had an agent, Rory's languishing career had electrified. It started as one trip to London when Lola was two, with Lorelai happily agreeing to babysit for a week. Then Rory was renting a one-bedroom apartment in New York; she could afford more but "didn't need the space" because most of her belongings were still being stored by family and friends.

It took until Lola's first day of kindergarten for Lorelai to realize she was raising her granddaughter.

Still, she was pleased enough with the arrangement. Lola was just like Rory in every way, and raising Rory had been the joy of her life. Luke was happy to get a chance to see all the firsts of a child. They got a "fresh kid" without any of Paris's breeders or Bangladesh.

Just as Luke entered the front door, bearing the burgers Lorelai requested, the phone rang. Seven o'clock on the dot; Rory was on time for a change.

"Hey mom," Rory chirped on the other end.

"Hi honey, how's Paris,"

"The city or the person?"

"Give me both."

Rory told Lorelai about Paris and Doyle's daughter Gabrielle starting Harvard (to her mother's mixed feelings), their son Tim starting his senior year of homeschooling, and the first day of high school for their "reconciliation baby," a boy named Connor. Paris and Doyle were currently teaching at a marriage retreat in the Smokey Mountains but would be back in New York in a week.

And then she described the sparkling lights and view of the Eiffel Tower from her own

Parisian hotel room, on assignment to interview a climate activist. Rory delighted over having finally tried escargot and discovering it was actually pretty tasty.

"Rory, you missed your own daughter's first day of school again," Lorelai said gently. It sometimes exasperated her that Rory talked more about Paris and Lane's children than her own.

"I'm sorry mom. I had a meeting with my publisher. Put Ricki on before I go to bed."

Lorelai didn't understand Rory's stubbornness over her daughter's name. While pregnant, she'd Googled "feminine version of Richard" and eventually christened her newborn daughter Lorelai Ricarda Gilmore, with Ricki as the nickname. Rory and Ricki, she'd cooed in her drugged state.

It never quite fit the child, who had come home from her first day of kindergarten proclaiming she was now named Lola and refusing to answer to anything else. Everyone but Rory agreed Lola was a better fit.

Lorelai knocked softly on Lola's open door. "It's your mom," she offered the phone to the teen, who took it silently while never looking away from her tablet screen.

"Hello Ricki. I was checking your grades online and I noticed you have a B in your English class."

Lola didn't respond. It never did any good. She didn't exactly struggle with English, but she hated the books they read, and she hated writing about them, and she always saved the worst studying for last. She was satisfied with her B and didn't want to put in the extra time for an A.

"Now I know you have to work very hard with your trigonometry, and I'm pleased with your perfect score there. Heaven knows I needed to work hard in my math classes, but don't neglect your favorite subjects for the ones you struggle with. When you're a journalist your writing skills will serve you a lot better than knowing what a cosine is."

"Yes mom," Lola murmured into the receiver, unable to remember where the idea she wanted to be a journalist came from.

"Now, tell me about the Franklin. How many articles have you had above the fold this year?"

Just the one, so she could knock it out of the way and forget about the Franklin the rest of the year, but Lola mumbled something about having difficulty with the school editor, which as predicted launched Rory into storytelling mode about hers and Paris's complicated friendship, letting Lola stay silent.

"I told you about my repavement piece?" Rory asked.

Yes, everyone had told Lola about Rory's triumphant tale of the repaving of the Chilton faculty parking lot. Lola confirmed.

"Put Mom back on the phone" Rory demanded of her daughter "and I'll see you soon baby."

_Only because Christmas is in three months. _Lola breathed a sigh of relief as she handed the house phone back to her mimi.

"Mom, are there any houses for sale in Stars Hollow right now? With room for two people?"

"Well hon, there are always some. Why?"

"I had a talk with my agent. Everyone knows I have a daughter and wants more of the Gilmore Girls story. Especially with the movie in the works." Rory was very excited about the upcoming movie and was highly involved in both script writing and choosing the perfect cast. She mentioned it in every call.

"You want to move back to Stars Hollow? For good?" Lorelai was surprised. Rory's income was based around jet-setting. She was spending a lot of time in L.A. finalizing drafts and attending auditions. How could she make any permanent roots in Stars Hollow right now?

"Well for a bit. I can't write my magnum opus about my relationship with my daughter without my daughter being there for inspiration." Rory giggled.

_What relationship? _"Hon, are you sure? I'm not sure Lola wants that kind of attention. And buying a house for a little bit isn't practical, even if you do have the money." Not to mention Lola was settled with Lorelai and hadn't lived under a roof with Rory for more than a week since she was three.

"_Ricki" _Rory ground out; she hated her daughter's renaming that had happened behind her back "loves the first book. I'm sure she'd love a sequel that's all about her and me raising her."

_I've raised her. _Lorelai kept her mouth shut; there's a lot Lorelai didn't tell Rory these days.

"I'll look around," Lorelai promised and quickly ended the conversation. Judging by the quiet from Lola's room, she didn't know Rory wanted to move her out. Lorelai didn't know how to tell her.


	3. Danielle Duncan Has Sparkly Green Eyes

_I still don't own Gilmore Girls. _

_Thanks for the feedback. As for Lorelai, I've never thought she was as open-minded as people made her out to be (see: Rory dropping out of school.) Plus, she's getting older and sometimes people become their parents as they age. But, I've tried to address why Lorelai doesn't see Lola as Lola. The whole story is about picking up dropped stitches, and Lola has a lot that needs mending._

When Lorelai was in the early throes of young motherhood, she never once expected there would be a day she would long for her mother's advice. But she needed it now.

_They were spending Christmas in Nantucket. The beach in the distance glistened with new snow. Emily had paid to have the backyard trees decorated with fairy lights, creating a Christmas wonderland inside and out. Full of apple tart, the women of the family settled into the living room of Emily's comfortable cottage; Luke had gone to bed, tired from cooking most of Christmas dinner. Lola was occupied with her new edible paints set, tasting a cherry liquid before carefully adding it to the sky on her paint-by-numbers canvas._

"_I don't understand how Rory couldn't be here. It's Christmas" Emily huffed. "She's missing Christmas with her daughter. Five is the best age too. Lola will probably figure out Santa in another year or two."_

"_She had a book reading and a meeting with the Washington Post tomorrow. It's fine. Besides, I'm the one raising her."_

"_Lorelai, don't say that. Grandparents shouldn't raise their grandchildren. Rory will come home soon, dear." Lorelai quirked her eyebrow at the "dear." Her mother had been softer this Christmas, indulging Lola with treats and they hadn't argued once. _

"_She missed her first day of kindergarten Mom. Face it, she's left Lola to me."_

_Lorelai set down her glass of brandy and put her face in her hands. Emily moved from her chair over to the couch, touching Lorelai's shoulder softly. _

"_Remember when you wished I would have a daughter just like me?" Emily did remember throwing out the cliché retort during one of their many tempests in Lorelai's teen years. "What if that's Lola? She's so headstrong. She changed her own name at five years old and paints her skies red. I don't want her to get pregnant, Mom. I don't want her sneaking out to drink or do drugs. I want her to have a future." Emily gently turned Lorelai's head so she could look her daughter in the eyes. _

"_Lorelai, you have done many wonderful things in your life. Even though you snuck out to drink and got pregnant. But the proudest I have been was seeing you as a mother. You did everything right. Just do it again, and Lola will be fine." _

_Just do it again. Lorelai had been surprised at how simple her mother's advice was. Raise Lola like Rory and Lola will become Rory and everything will be fine. _

_It was the most important advice her mother gave her. Two months later she was back in Nantucket, sorting her mother's things and preparing the transport of her mother's body to the family mausoleum. _

_So Lorelai was determined to do everything the same again. At first, townspeople commented that Lola didn't seem to look forward to Lorelai's movie nights, or that she had enjoyed the salad at lunch, but Lorelai told them she had raised a successful daughter and knew what she was doing. The comments stopped, Lola got perfect grades, and everyone eventually saw what Lorelai needed them to see: Lola was just like Rory. Lola would be Rory. It would have made her mother proud. _

Lorelai once again thought about what she would have done with Rory. She remembered the times she didn't tell Rory bad things, for her own good of course. She didn't tell Rory about their money problems or that she had gotten back together with Max. So she didn't tell Lola Rory's news. Instead, she picked out a movie for them to watch with their burgers. She frowned as she opened the boxes Luke brought. There was his salad of course, but only one bacon cheeseburger. Instead, there was a grilled cheese with what appeared to be tomato.

"Luuuke, you got Lola's burger wrong" Lorelai called up the stairs

"What's wrong with the food?" he called back from their bedroom.

"You forgot the burger part."

Luke came down the stairs. "Oh yeah, well Lola told me this afternoon she was craving grilled cheese, so I made her that instead" Not strictly the truth, but Luke knew Lola didn't much care for cheeseburgers.

Lorelai stuck her head into Lola's room. "Sweets, did you want a burger or a grilled cheese tonight"

"Grilled cheese, Mimi"

"Luke put vegetables on it"

"Just tomato. It's like a pizza sandwich, Mimi"

Tomato sandwiches were to Lola what cheeseburgers were to Mimi. In summer she ate them cold with mayo. But as the weather turned cool, melty mozzarella and warm tomato warmed her fingers and her heart.

The little family sat around the television, Sixteen Candles in the background. Lorelai forced herself to be completely engrossed, the only one aware of the invisible Rory in the room. Lola worked some more on her sweater, watching, with concern, her Mimi's tense shoulders more than the movie. And Luke, as always, kept silent watch over them both.

The next afternoon Lola and Gwen stood outside the beauty supply store. Lola had already changed into her customary sweater, leggings, and boots, and she had an hour to kill before she had to babysit the Banyan girls while their parents went to a business meeting at their church. In the meantime, it was Thursday, and that meant blue-haired Danielle Duncan was working the register, and Lola thought those green eyes were the prettiest she'd ever seen.

"Just go in" Gwen encouraged.

"She'll think I'm weird, going in every Thursday and never buying anything"

"So, buy something"

"I don't wear makeup"

"I think you'd have a lot of fun with eyeshadow. It would go with your shawls. Or hey, maybe Lorelai needs moisturizer. She's always worried about wrinkles."

"I've bought her enough moisturizer to smooth the skin of Lorelai the First's corpse."

"Eyeshadow it is." Gwen half shoved Lola into the shop, making a beeline for the eye makeup. The two compared palettes for a while, Lola sneaking glances at the register while debating shades. She didn't notice the green eyes glancing back when she bent over to compare products. Finally, Gwen found a collection of jewel tones she insisted would complement most of Lola's most outrageous and/or intricate knitting and promised to teach her how to use it.

"Is that a Stephen West?" Danielle asked Lola, pointing at the colorful shawl around her neck.

"Umm...yeah. Vertices Unite. I used Hedgehog Fibers. Do you fiber? I mean, do you knit or crochet or anything like that..." Lola looked to the side, her face warm. Do you fiber? What kind of question was that?

"Oh, I fiber. Not as much as you do. Nobody fibers as much as you do, but yeah, since I was eight." Danielle spoke very quickly; Lola only understood it thanks to her Mimi's rambles.

"I was five, so I win?" Lola's heart leapt at idea of Danielle noticing her knitting around town.

"Aren't we all winners when we have hand knit socks?"

"I love that. Get it to me on a mug." Lola giggled. For a second, the two stood staring before Gwen cleared her throat and tapped her watch.

Danielle shook her head. "Your makeup, not that you need any, comes to $26.85. Maybe we could fiber together sometime?" To Lola, Danielle glowed with confidence, green eyes sparkling and short blue hair styled to perfection. She must look like an awkward loser in comparison, with her tangled hair and pilled sweater.

"Uh yeah, I'd like that." Lola couldn't believe her voice was still working.

"And on Thursdays our moisturizer is half off, in case you start running low again." Danielle winked.

Lola blushed again at her anti-aging cream purchasing habit being noticed. "Well skin care is very important. I should go home and see how much I have left come on Gwen bye Danielle." The salutation tumbled out of her mouth as she dragged a smirking Gwen behind her.

Outside in the sun the friends giggled. "Fibering? Is that what you kids call it nowadays?" Lola was about to respond when she saw Lorelai walking their way.

"Shut up. Mimi's coming."

"I don't know why you're still in the closet. Lorelai will be cool with your lesbian love."

"First, she still makes all those jokes about the L Word."

"She treats Michel just fine"

"Michel isn't the granddaughter that she wants to become Rory 2.0. Second, I don't know if I'm a lesbian. Maybe I'm bi."

"Because you've had all those crushes on guys."

"Maybe I haven't met the right one."

"Maybe you should stop going to Mrs. Kim's craft circle. Hi Lorelai!"

Lorelai waved to her granddaughter's friend and daughter's ex's daughter. "Lola, don't you have babysitting?"

"Uh yeah, I was just on my way there now. Can you take this home for me?"

"Eyeshadow? Since when do you like makeup?"

Lola thought for a moment. She couldn't say it was because of the sparkly green eyes that sold it to her. "I was inspired. A magazine."

"Yeah, we saw a magazine with eyeshadow that matched sweaters." Gwen offered. It was a lame story, but Lola was so grateful for Gwen in that moment.

"Did you eat?"

"I'm not hungry. That church meeting should be over by eight. Ask Grampa to save me something?"

"You need to eat more." Lorelai was worried about Lola's lack of pigging out during their movie nights. _She wasn't bulimic, was she?_

"I'll work on that." And with that, Lola left her mimi and best friend to discuss her eyeshadow choices as she made her way to the Banyan house. She had a ton of homework so hopefully those two would be quiet and well behaved. She knew they would be. Children were always well behaved when Lola watched them.


	4. A not-so Happy Halloween

Three Thursdays passed, with three new lip glosses that she would never wear, and it was Halloween weekend.

She and Danielle had finally gotten the nerve to sit together outside the beauty supply store; Gwen had happily permitted them to use the bridge. Lola currently had a duffel bag open in front of her, displaying her handmade costume.

"I can't believe you did the Molly Weasley dress." Danielle looked suitably impressed, fingering the wool sleeves.

"There's even a shawl. I've been working on the whole thing since November 1." Danielle's foot brushed against her ankle as it dangled, and Lola had to remember to breathe.

"Now can you handle the red hair dye? You'll still look cute if you give yourself green hair, but I'm pretty sure that fancy school would kick you out."

"Don't give me a reason to mess this up." Their hands were next to each other on the bridge now, fingertips almost close enough to touch.

"Right. You hate having to wear a commercial sweater."

"And the snotty rich kids that wouldn't know how to sew a button."

"Now do they judge you as much as you judge them?" Danielle bumped her shoulder.

"More if you'd believe it. I'm not planning a coming out party. And my mother is an alum. My headmaster was her English teacher. The one that almost married my mimi. And my mother was valedictorian."

"Quite a reputation to uphold." Danielle took her hand. It was warm, the perfect size, and her skin tingled just a bit.

"There's a college fair next week and I haven't signed up. Three teachers have asked when I'm going to go to one."

"How about I go and pretend to be you?"

"Your eyes would give it away."

"We could go together? Could you check on that?" Danielle gave her an almost puppy look. Lola melted.

"It's probably too late for this one, but there's another in January. I could see if they'll let some outsiders in. You really want to go to a rich kid college fair?"

"I want to be a chemist. Work in a lab. Develop medicine maybe. I need a lot of good college for that. And some good scholarship money."

"A chemist?"

"It's why I work in the beauty store. I love the hair dye. What about you?"

Lola didn't answer right away. What did she want to be? Everyone had just assumed she'd be a journalist. Early on, even she had. She took literature classes because that's what Mimi told her to pick. She forced her way into chemistry and physics classes even though her teachers told her she'd enjoy extra literature classes more (her mother thought she was getting the drudgery out of the way.) She worked on the Franklin and missed enough meetings to make Jess Brown yell at her about her commitment and how it wasn't supposed to be a waste having a Gilmore on staff. Every story was a slog, with interviewees telling her either inane, useless information or things she already knew. She didn't know where she wanted to go to college but assumed she'd end up at Yale, being a legacy.

She was happiest when knitting sweaters. She was happy helping Jackson and Sookie with their garden, taking some of the vegetables home as payment and making them into soup or breads or salads. She liked watching the Banyan girls and Dave Belleville's small son, the way they climbed onto her lap for a story or smiled at the toys she made them. Even their rare tantrums made her feel triumphant when she got them smiling again. Their parents' gentle footsteps as they crept into their children's rooms to check on them when they got home, even after her assurances they were safe and sound.

But you couldn't make a proper career out of that.

"I don't know yet." She was embarrassed; Rory Gilmore's daughter was supposed to know.

Danielle kissed her hand.

Friday afternoon, Lola checked her Halloween list. She still needed to attempt the hair dye, but that should wait until Mimi got home. Her amigurumi pumpkins and ghosties were ready for the children's Halloween party at church tomorrow. She'd bought the full size candy bars for trick or treat on Sunday; Gwen's house was a prime location for kids to visit. She still needed to make the chocolate covered pretzels and assemble the candy bags for the kids in her Sunday School class. But for now, an early dinner.

Gwen considered it ironic that the one teenager in town that went to church was the lesbian. Lola herself wasn't sure if she actually believed in the whole thing, but in middle school she had wanted adult role models, and she liked helping with the kids. They mostly taught the children nice stories that could apply to anyone, and Reverend Skinner had quietly assured her that she was loved and welcome no matter who she ended up loving. Plus they weren't afraid of the word Halloween like Mrs. Kim's church friends.

Not in the mood for sweater and leggings, she threw on a long denim dress and autumnal shawl with her orange and purple knee socks and boots. The sun shone, perfectly shaped leaves crunched under her feet, and she had two days without Chilton to look forward to. Perfect day.

Luke greeted her with a hug and the promise of French onion soup. He just needed to toast the cheese and bread on top. While she waited, he handed her a garden salad with vinaigrette.

Just as she was dipping her spoon beneath the layer of gouda and cheddar cheese to get to the decadent beef broth, the bell jangled.

"Happy Halloween!"

Bloody hell.


End file.
